


frater meus

by milo_the_fish



Series: lace them up [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Familial Feelings, Gen, Resurrection, TommyInnit Is Dead, Wilbur Soot Is Going Through It, Wilbur Soot Is Resurrected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milo_the_fish/pseuds/milo_the_fish
Summary: “You killed my brother!” Wilbur snarls at them, his brows furrowed and his dark eyes filling with rage. “He wasn’t sup-“ Techno tries to intersect, “No! No, you don’t get to speak to me Technoblade, you killed my baby brother,” Wilbur shouts, “You fucking killed him!”
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: lace them up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126655
Comments: 17
Kudos: 498
Collections: SBI Fics to Make Sebbie Cry





	frater meus

**Author's Note:**

> If you read my short AU introduction called Dad Shoes, you’ll recognize a piece of this ;), if you didn’t Tommy died during the final L’Manberg bombing.
> 
> Also I heavily imply reincarnation which may tie to another au I have planned, we’ll see if I feel up to it

There's something to the feeling of being too late, or just a second belated. It _hurts_ , it _stings_ , it destroys any feeling of hope that exists in your body. That dejection starts to poison you, turning every thought bitter, because _you were too late_ , **you fucked up** , **_why do you even exist?_** It's why he sat here, staring at the grave of his younger brother, crying his eyes out, and just feeling his heart trying to collapse on himself. _Why did it have to be him?_ Is the only question on his mind, it rings and shakes and towers over him with an malicious smile. Wilbur could never understand why life, any goddess of fortune, despised his younger brother. Tommy was sweet, albeit a little loud and rowdy, but he’s a _kid_ , he’s allowed to be this way. No matter where they turned, though, Tommy met giant bouts of misfortune, some pertaining to Wilbur himself. A disgusting bubbling feeing ate his stomach up, because Wilbur still failed him despite his best efforts. Tommy deserved much better than him, and he deserves much better than their family, he deserves to be in a cottage in a nice valley, with a loving pair of guardians (because as much as Wilbur wishes to be in this fantasies, he knows that no matter what he will always bring down a piece of Tommy), maybe Puffy and Niki, they’re kind-hearted and sweet, they could raise him right. They could give Tommy a safe place, one that Wilbur keeps seeming to destroy.

Maybe it’s why he feels like he has a grand debt to repay, he failed Tommy so severely, indebted to the honeysuckle-sweet boy hidden under that bravado, and indebted to the oracle who brought them together (because maybe death had given him a perspective he had never seen before, one he had not expected and wished desperately wasn’t as true as it was, _cursed_ the way it makes his chest warm and a small turn up the corners of his lips), and he just wishes that the aching destruction that came with living never took in his boy—and as much as Wilbur tries to deny it, Tommy has always been more his son than Fundy, he was never as nurturing or kind to the poor fox boy as he was his baby brother. It always made his stomach holed through with guilt at the disappointment that was so present in Fundy’s eyes, and the retribution he had gotten burning the flag and watching as his cowardly father ran with a boy-uncle that was worth more than him. It’s one of the things Wilbur is unsure of taking back, of ever going against, because Tommy will always be his top priority, no matter how much he tried to push Fundy to the forefront, he never could, because he would always gaze past his son to look at _his boy_. Wilbur knows it was never a conscious thing, the way he gravitated to his brother, but he wished he could take it back sometimes, seeing the way others pity him like some lovesick sinner, when all he wants is best for the blond boy that he raised and cared for and **_loved_** with every fibre of his being. Tommy was his brother, his son, his _everything_ , and he doesn’t know how anyone would be able to compete.

It’s why he writhes and aches most nights, knowing Fundy wishes for a loving father, one that maybe he had been a shadow of when he was younger, but he knows he will never be that. Not for Fundy, or Tubbo, or any of the other makeshift children who wished to claim him as an older brother figure; only for Tommy, the kid he bore for so long. The one who upon immediate meeting captured his heart and held it tightly in his small meaty fist, and Wilbur hadn’t know then he would never look back and protect that boy with his life, or at least he would until their cowardly father took him out of his voice-driven misery. Maybe a part of Wilbur is angry about it, about watching Dream hurt his boy while unable to help, and as Phil let it happen; picking _favorites_ once again. It’s why the return slightly grated on his nerves, he very much is just downplaying the bitter and sharp agonizing pain of his missing puzzle piece, his brother, his Tommy and his father and brother denying him access to his brother.

The first week of his return Phil and Techno avoided his questions, Ranboo not even remembering that Wilbur had been dead in the first place. It was the start of the second week when he had begged for them to bring him to his brother, he was worried, he was so scared for him, because the last thing he remembers were explosions. So many destructive and loud bangs and booms that shook his soul so vigorously he couldn't get Tommy's blue eyes out of his mind, the fear that was in them, the new dimness present. He was so worried, so utterly terrified for him, and he just- he needed to know where Tommy was. That's when Phil cracked and lead him to the small gravestone. It said his full name, _Theseus,_ and Wilbur despised it. Phil had given Tommy that name as baby, one that he used when Tommy was in trouble, a name that Wilbur had never cared for. Tommy fit him so much better, Wilbur knew he liked it much more.

That's why as he sits at the final resting place he also seethes, they couldn't even care to use the name Tommy liked, the one he used and adored, _did they even fucking know him?_ Maybe it's Phil on his "I'm his father" tirade again, believing he knows his son when he truly doesn't, he didn't raise him, Wilbur raised him. Wilbur held him while he cried, he took care of him and helped him learn. Wilbur knew what Tommy wished for, knew what he wanted.

Phil knew nothing, absolutely jack-shit about Tommy, and Wilbur knew with almost one hundred percent certainty that it was true.

It was when he was told how Tommy died that it truly get worse. His anger had never reached this height before, not even when his sanity was at it's weakest, when he only felt numb and cold, when he thought of blowing his nation to kingdom come, none of that compared to right now. His teeth were grinding, looking at the beady black eyes of his brother, and the blue eyes of his father, so like Tommy's and so not at the same time. “You _killed_ my brother!” Wilbur snarls at them, his brows furrowed and his dark eyes filling with rage. “He wasn’t sup-“ Techno tries to intersect, “No! No, you don’t get to speak to me Technoblade, you killed my baby brother,” Wilbur shouts, “You fucking killed him!” He starts to cry, tears forming in his eyes and his body shaking. “Will, he’s my brother too,” Techno says, guilt overtaking the voices and shouting at him, he can’t do anything. “No! He was never your brother, Blade, never! I was more _his family_ than the either of you, I was more his _father_ , his _brother_ , than **_either of you tried to be_**. You know nothing, about him, _nothing_ ,” he sobs, “He was _everything_ I had, the only thing I ever needed or trusted at the end of the day, but most of all he was just a kid!” Wilbur steps towards them, body quaking. “He was just a _kid_ ,” he whined, his weeping wracking his body with tremors so severe it looked like he was having another episode, one of the ones he had in Pogtopia when the voices got to be too much.

“He was _my_ kid,” Wilbur whispers, “He was the one thing that I had that was mine and he-“ a sob breaks his sentence, “He was my best friend.” He knees finally collapse, Techno catching him, holding his brother to his chest. “H-He w-wa-was,” Wilbur’s voice breaks, a violent cry interrupting his train of thought, “He was _my Tommy_ , I- I miss him so much, I miss him so much it aches.” He shifts his head into Techno’s hair. “I want him back, please,” he begs, “Just bring him back to me _pleasepleaseplease_.”

“We’ll try,” Phil states, looking at his two remaining sons. Wilbur looks up at him, anger slowly diffusing, “He’s all I have, Phil.” Phil nods, “I understand, we’ll do our best.”

That's when Wilbur watched Technoblade and Phil attempt to bring him back, bring _his_ Tommy back, and it brought tears to his eyes, maybe he was allowed to be hopeful. Maybe he was allowed this one grace, the _one_ miracle that he needed granted, to bring his brother back to him. It has been _so long_ since he had seen him, since they were both in the right mindset, and their track record must mean they can do it again, bring back his Tommy, bring back _his boy_. He can't watch as they work over the body, though, heart too broken to see the one he loves most like that, to see him so still, so frozen in place. He can't handle that, so he stares at the wall, fiddling his fingers as Technoblade and Phil attempt to bring back the last member of their fucked-up little _merry_ band back to them.

Wilbur's first instinct when life is breathed back into his boy is to protect him, to not let either of them touch him, to hold his Tommy until he stabilizes, to be the first person he sees when he wakes. It's so threatening and deafening, the love his holds for his pseudo-son, for his brother, because Wilbur had never realized it before, how much he loved him. It's why his headstone had hurt, why that giant feeling of _I'm too late_ had stung him so severely, because there will never be someone he loves as much as Tommy, there will never be another that would ever come close into his heart. There was the humming feeling and the knowing and he knew why it was so, he saw them and he felt them, and he smiles so terribly sad-like and held his brother to him, “ _Fili mi_ ,” he whispers into dirty blond hair. He knows Phil and Techno recognize the words, the way they take stuttering breaths and stare at him.

He cradles Tommy against his chest as he gets him into the bed, the poor boy breathing so slowly and little whines leaving his throat at some of his broken ribs stabbing his insides. They'll fix him, they'll figure it out, they'll bring his boy back, no matter which version it is. The memories of him are so hazy, the ones from exile a lot clearer than most, but he knows that the boy he raised is different; changed, like someone twisted him up inside like a broken puzzle and threw him back on the coffee table for someone else to solve. Wilbur would make penance if it killed him, fixing every horrible thing to happen to his brother. He places a light kiss on the top of Tommy’s hairline, “ _Mea tu es, Theseus_.”

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING THE SUPPORT YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN GIVING ME IS INSANE THANK YOUUUUUUU
> 
> fili mi = my son  
> mea tu es = you are my home
> 
> my new twitter :) 


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